


Twinch

by shaenie



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Multi, Other, Threesomes, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-05
Updated: 2003-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-12 05:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaenie/pseuds/shaenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>some things stay the same, some things don't</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twinch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/mistermaki/profile)[**mistermaki**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/mistermaki/) to be set in a locker room, and to contain the words sharp and sudden.

  
Fred is having a twinch.

Twinch being defined as a twin-induced-hunch, a word he and George had been using since learning to speak. Since before that, really, learning to speak had only firmed up the verbiage.

He is used to them, has had them all his life, but for some reason, this one is giving him fits. He can't really figure out what's different, the tone of it just feels... peculiar.

He is following it anyhow, his feet moving on their own, wandering corridors, stairways, navigating the byways of Hogwarts with familiarity that two years away hasn't lessened.

When he hears the noises coming from the Gryffindor locker room, he thinks he understands the twinch, or what's behind it, anyhow. He puts aside the strange tone of it for later consideration.

**

There is a weird reverberance in Fred's mind, when he takes in the scene before him.

Something like an echo.

He remembers a scene very like this one, remembers the feel of the twinch (similar to this one, but different in some undefinable way) that had lead him here on a previous occasion (George liked sex in the locker room, one of the few odd little quirks Fred and George did not precisely share, though Fred had no objection to it per se), remembers opening the door and seeing George (straddling Oliver), glistening and shimmering with sweat.

He remembers the feel of becoming instantly and excruciatingly erect (which is also happening now, only making the feel of that echo even stronger), and he remembers the look on Oliver's face (surprise, recognition, flush of embarrassment, then a slow and rather dubious understanding at Fred's broad smile).

He remembers George, voice gone deep and growly (shiver-inspiring), so different from his daily speaking voice, murmuring: "Come on then, Fred, before someone comes!"

He remembers the feel of Oliver's sleek and heated skin beneath his fingertips, sense-memory so powerful that his fingertips tingle, now, almost burn with it. He remembers the sudden shock of wanting, sharp and vicious like tiny razor teeth pricking the skin of his back and thighs and scrotum.

It had been a surprise, in spite of the twinch, but one that Fred had felt utterly capable of rolling with, and Oliver (twenty then, and he had grown even more beautiful, and Fred had wondered only briefly what Oliver was doing at Hogwarts, because -- as powerful as Weasley inquisitiveness could be -- curiosity could bloody well wait) had responded to Fred's sudden wand-induced nudity with a breathy and very gratifying: "Identical!"

**

This scene isn't exactly the same, though.

It is Harry straddling George, rather than George straddling Oliver. Harry, who seemed to have grown even taller and broader since only that summer, which he had spent with the Weasley's. Harry, whose face is flushed and fever-bright, lips swollen and parted as he pants for breath. Harry Potter, and Fred is already smiling slightly, fingers groping for his wand in the pocket of his robes.

Until George turns, quick snap of the head, and the twinch flares into one of those moments of silent communication as they lock eyes.

Fred couldn't have avoided understanding, though he would have liked to.

Part of the problem with being a twin, is that you can never really get away with pretending to misunderstand.

He backs out quickly, and stands for several seconds, just looking at the door. He can hear them in there (and it feels a bit like there are crackers going off in his mind, like Christmas crackers, but filled with all sorts of unpleasantness instead of amusements, releasing noxious and cutting oddments instead of party hats or live mice -- unless they were rabid, sharp-toothed mice -- or colorful puffs of smoke), and there is some kind of pain blossoming in his midsection, something not sharp but heavy, crushing, smothering.

He takes out his wand and places a locking charm on the door. After a moment, he adds one for silence.

It wouldn't do to have any of the students catch the headboy shagging a ministry official.

 _Mine,_ George's eyes had said. _Not ours. Mine._

Fred recognizes jealously well enough, though he hasn't really had much experience with it in the past. There had never been anything to be jealous of.

He walks away from the Gryffindor locker room, pace slow and measured (anyone who knows him would have been able to see that something is wrong by that alone), letting his feet take him where they would.

He feels as though he has lost something, and he cannot quite sort out what it is. Not George, because he knows he can never lose George. Not Harry, because he had never _had_ Harry (and though it would be a lie to say he'd never thought about it, Fred had never particularly yearned for it, either).

He can't think what it could be until he feels the twinch again, that utterly perfect flutter-flip-skip of shared feeling, a thing he has always had, a thing he has always known, as familiar as his own face in the glass, as familiar as George's face. He feels it, and he feels what is not familiar about it, feels the differences, and this time he understands why.

And it makes him flinch.


End file.
